


Wait

by ao1



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1940s, Canon Divergence - Captain America: The First Avenger, Captain America: The First Avenger, F/M, Reader-Insert, Romance, Sorry Not Sorry, Stan Lee Cameo, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24438052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ao1/pseuds/ao1
Summary: Steve Rogers meets the reader one fateful day before heading out on his USO tour.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	Wait

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a request from my old tumblr. I'm inactive there now, so decided to move and post it on here.
> 
> (Y/F/N) - Full Name, (Y/L/N) - Last Name

“Come on, man! It’s my last night. Gotta get you cleaned up.” Bucky threw his arm around Steve’s shoulders as they walked out of the alley. Steve chuckled, doing a poor job at masking his disappointment; despite his many attempts at enlisting, he wouldn’t be shipping out alongside Bucky come tomorrow.

They continued down the street away from the cinema when they heard a wolf whistle across the street. Three men leaning against a shop were leering at a girl as she passed; she was obviously uncomfortable with the situation, keeping her head down as she walked.

“Isn’t that (Y/N)? Y’know the one from the diner on 7th?” Steve asked. Bucky nudged his shoulder with a grin.

“Don’t act like you didn’t know, punk. You’ve been carryin’ a torch for her since the first time we set foot in that place.” Steve glared, stuck to his spot, as Bucky continued to swagger down the street. A yelp followed by the sounds of familiar footsteps stalking away from him caused Bucky to instantly whip around. Steve was headed toward the three men that now surrounded you, laughing at your reaction to one of them smacking you on the ass.

“Shit, Steve. Not again,” Bucky whispered under his breath. Bucky began to pick up his pace to catch up with Steve, but before either of them could reach you, they saw you smooth down your skirt and hit one of the guys with your bag.

“Did you really think that was a good way to get my attention?” you yelled as you smacked the guy with your purse again, then knocked him to the ground. The other two scrambled to help their friend to his feet, obviously shocked by your outburst.

“C’mon, sugar, we just wanted to show you a good time,” one of them said in what was meant to be a calming tone. In reality, it just made him come off as more of a creep. You narrowed your eyes at the trio, hands on your hips.

“I don’t know in what world that would work on a girl, but it definitely doesn’t work in Brooklyn.” With that, you hailed a cab and immediately got inside as soon as one pulled up, slamming the door behind you.

Bucky turned to look at Steve with wide eyes. Steve’s eyes were still trained where you once stood, an amused smile stuck on his lips. “That girl really is something, isn’t she?” Steve asked.

Bucky laughed at his friend; he could tell Steve was completely enchanted by you.

* * *

A week later, Steve was completely different; at least he was physically. He was taller, faster and definitely more muscular. But inside, he was still that kid from Brooklyn. **  
**

And that’s where he stood now: back home in Brooklyn. This time, when he walked down the street, people noticed. Girls would throw flirty smiles at him and men would nod or salute as they took note of his uniform.

In one hand, he held onto a suitcase; despite his physical transformation, he wasn’t being sent overseas to fight in the war. He was about to be paraded across America to try and sell war bonds. This was not how he imagined his part in the war efforts would be.

He sighed and stared down the street, waiting for a cab to pass. Minutes later, a cab turned the corner and headed in his direction. As Steve raised his hand to hail the cab, a manicured hand shot up, effectively stopping the cab. Steve looked to his right and his eyebrows raised in surprise.

It was you. But not how he normally saw you at the diner. Your hair was meticulously done and wasn’t covered up by the bonnet that was part of your diner uniform. And instead of the uniform, you wore a dress cinched in at your waist with a belt, the deep red standing out amongst the lighter colors that most women wore during the daytime. From the first time Steve saw you he thought you were absolutely gorgeous, but today you looked resplendent.

“Hello?” you waved your hand in front of Steve’s eyes. He hadn’t realized that he had been staring. “If you don’t respond, I’m going to assume that you don’t need the cab.”

Steve blinked a couple of times, regaining his sense of reality. “Uh, no. I mean, yes, I do need a cab, but you can take it. I’ll wait for the next one.”

You pressed your lips together to try and suppress your laugh from bubbling out. You wouldn’t think that a guy who looked like he did would become flustered over you. “Where are you headed?” you asked ignoring the cabbie’s exclamations for one of you to get in.

“The train station,” he replied. Your smile widened and you threw open the cab door and gestured for him to get in, only then did he notice that you were holding a suitcase as well.

“I’m headed there as well. We can share the cab.” He stood in his place as you took his suitcase from him and pushed past him to the trunk of the cab, throwing both of your bags inside. It wasn’t until you had situated yourself inside the cab that he slid in next to you.

As the cab drove down the street, an uncomfortable silence filled the backseat. You noticed as Steve’s eyes darted back and forth between the window and you a couple of times before settling for staring at his lap. You watch as familiar buildings and shops zoom past the window. A few more minutes passed and you decide that you’ve had enough of the silence.

“So, who do I have the honor of sharing my cab with today?” you asked, still looking out the window.

Steve raised his head and looked at you. “Steve. Steve Rogers.”

“(Y/F/N). Nice to meet you, Steve Rogers.” You shifted so your whole body was turned to him. You studied his form and cocked your head to the side. He looked really familiar, but you just couldn’t place it. “You remind me of someone.”

“I, uh, I’ve been to the diner a couple of times.” You narrowed your eyes and tried harder to figure out who he was; you’d always had a pretty good memory and you could always remember your customer’s orders. Steve opened his mouth, about to speak when it clicks in your mind. He was taller and bigger, but the face was the same. “Apple pie and black coffee!”

He chuckled and looked at you with a lopsided grin, then nodded. “Wow,” you breathed out. “Uh, you would always come in with your friend.” He nodded again. “And I’m pretty sure you got in a couple of fights behind the diner.” Steve laughed out loud at that one and you laughed internally at the thought of any of those guys trying to pick a fight with him now. You let your eyes roam his body one more time. “You–you look really good.”

* * *

It turned out that you and Steve wouldn’t just be travelling to the train station together, you and him ended up touring the country together. Of course, it wasn’t just you and him. Steve would get up on stage as Captain America and you were one of the chorus girls.

A month into the tour, you and the other girls were changing backstage. The performance was over and you were all getting ready to go to a dance club a couple blocks from the theatre.

“Maybe we can get the Captain to join us tonight,” Millie giggled, “and maybe we can even get him to loosen up.” Murmurs of agreement rippled through the dressing room. You rolled your eyes at them; at every stop, one of them would try and get Steve drunk and in their bed.

“Oh hush,” Cindy, another dancer called, “We all know the Captain has his eye on one girl.” A couple girls laughed and others sent teasing remarks your way.

“You girls do realize he’s not actually a captain, right?” You asked as you swiped on another layer of lipstick.

“Still,” Cindy retorted. “Y’all would make a perfect couple, wouldn’t they ladies? Captain America and Miss Brooklyn!” The girls erupted into a fit of giggles at her use of the nickname.

They had found out you had joined, and won, a beauty pageant when you were in high school. The girls refused to let you live it down despite you telling them it was Stan, the owner of the diner, who had insisted on you joining. He thought it might bring some attention to the joint and he was right. Newspapers would come over and take pictures of you as you served customers and, somehow, Cindy and Millie had managed to track down some of those articles.

You just rolled your eyes and leaned down to Cindy, who was seated in front of the vanity. “Well at least, it’s better than taking the fake Hitler to bed three times a week.” The girls “ooh”-ed at your remark when Cindy narrowed her eyes at you. You mimicked her expression and the two of you stared each other down for a few seconds before breaking out in laughter, the rest of the girls following suit.

A knock on the door broke up the noise. “You ladies decent?” The door opened and Carl, who played Hitler in the show, strolled in. He was trailed by some other guys from the USO and lastly, by Steve. As the girls gathered things and walked out, a few of them cozied up next to a guy, you and Steve stayed behind.

“Hi,” he said as soon as the door was closed. You walked over and wrapped your arms around his waist. You and Steve would never be this close in front of the others; the only people who knew about the two of you were Cindy and Carl.

“Hi.” You looked up into his eyes as he stared down at you. On most nights when the show was over, his eyes were always bright, filled with laughter as the two of you took a walk in the park or as he would try to teach you how to draw. But tonight, they were cloudy and dark and you knew exactly what was on his mind.

“Carl told you, didn’t he?” You took a seat on the couch and he sat down beside you. The Captain America shows had gotten so popular that the USO thought it would be a great way to cheer up the troops overseas. The problem was, not everyone would be going with Steve, including you.

You rested your head on his shoulder and he wrapped his arms around you. After spending a month constantly side-by-side, you couldn’t just let him go. But you knew Steve had wanted to ship out.

You curled into Steve’s side and he pulled your legs into his lap, absentmindedly running his hand up and down them.

“You should go,” you murmur against his shoulder, trying to bite back the reluctance in your tone.

“The club can wait.” Steve said in an attempt to lighten the mood. You attempted to laugh at his joke, but all that came out was a soft exhale.

“You know what I mean. You gotta go to Italy.” Steve tightened his hold on you, holding you closer to him.

“I can’t just leave you, (Y/N).”

“I’m a big girl, Steve. I can take care of myself.” He looked down at you with a tight-lipped smile.

“Do you really want me gone that badly?” You shook your head and let out a small chuckle.

“No, but I know you’d rather be out there than dancing around in tights back here.”

“I’m still gonna be in tights, you know,” you raised an eyebrow at Steve. “I just – I have something worth staying around for now and it’s not like they’re going to put me out there on the front line. It’ll be exactly the same as it is here – just without you.”

He looked you in the eyes and you were ready to agree with him that he should stay here, with you. However, both of you knew this conversation only had one outcome; once Steve was given the orders, he would have no choice but to go. Steve would try to fight it, try to persuade the USO that the shows had more value here than overseas. But he’d only do that if you asked him to stay.

“Steve, you told me you tried to enlist four times, and now that you have the chance, you’re gonna give it up? For me?” Steve opened his mouth, but you kept talking. “I know you’re not going to be out there with the rest of the guys, but I don’t know, maybe you’ll see Bucky? You did say he was stationed out in Europe.” Steve perked up at the mention of his best friend. “And you know I’ll be here when you come back.”

Steve smiled. “No you won’t.”

“Well, you’re right. I’ll probably be back in Brooklyn, but I’ll still wait for you.” You cupped his cheek and he removed his hand from your legs to rummage in his pocket.

“I don’t want you to wait for me; I’d rather come home to Mrs. Rogers.” He held up a simple gold band. “It’s not much, but it’s all I could scrape together.”

You let out a surprised laugh. “Steven Grant Rogers, it’s perfect.”

“Wait, I gotta do this properly.” He lifted you up before placing you back on the couch, getting on one knee before you. Steve took a deep breath. “(Y/F/N), will you marry me?”

“Yes! Of course I will,” you exclaimed as he slipped the band on your finger. You wrapped your arms around him pulling him into a kiss. You gripped his collar and tugged him up onto the couch as you fell back.

“We should get to the club,” Steve said in between kisses. You giggled and mocked his words from earlier.

“The club can wait.”

* * *

Sunlight filtered through the window and you groaned, rolling over to the other side of the bed. You sat up, surprised at the lack of warmth that was usually on this side of the bed. As you wrapped the blanket around your bare shoulders, Steve came in drying off his hands.

“Morning.” He smiled, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. You came up behind him and draped your arms over his broad shoulders, pressing your lips to his temple.

“G’morning,” you mumbled. He pulled you down for a proper kiss. It had been five days since you and Steve got married and most mornings had gone like this, except you were usually the one who was up first.

“I made breakfast.” You smiled as Steve hooked his arms under your thighs and piggybacked you to the kitchen, then laughed as he dropped you onto a chair. Two plates of toast, bacon, and eggs were on the table. Steve set down a cup of coffee in front of you and took the seat across from you.

“You ready to go?” You asked, eyeing the suitcases by the door. Steve took your hand in his in an attempt to get your mind off the luggage.

“Baby, don’t. We still have the rest of the day.” He gave you a reassuring smile and you reciprocated. The two of you continued to eat, talking about anything and everything to distract each other from Steve’s impending departure. By the time the two of you were getting ready to go out, you were back to laughing and teasing each other.

You spent the morning walking around the city, Steve pointing out places where him and Bucky would hang out or where he would get into fights. You showed him the park where you would play growing up and pointed out the apartment building where you grew up. You stopped for lunch at the diner and introduced Stan and Steve.

“You better not get any funny ideas while you’re out there, son. I don’t care about no Captain America.” Stan said, wagging a finger at Steve. “(Y/N) here is practically my daughter and I’ll get half of Brooklyn hunting you down if you break her heart.” Both you and Steve laughed at his threat.

“Sir, I have every intention of coming back to her.” Steve said. Satisfied with his answer, Stan sat the two of you down and treated Steve to stories about you during all the years you had worked at the diner. On your way out, Stan leaned in and whispered a promise to Steve that he’d keep an eye out for you. Steve gave him a handshake, smiling at him in appreciation.

Eventually, you and Steve reached the docks. The fact that he was leaving was unavoidable now and you allowed yourself to shed a few tears. Steve kissed you and wiped away your tears.

“I’ll be back in three months, baby.” He cradled your head against his chest and you nodded.

“Promise me, you’ll write as soon as you get there.” He nodded. “I’m going to write you a letter every day, so just write me as much as you can.” You smoothed down the front of his suit and sighed. The horn on the ship blew and you knew you had to let him go.

You walked hand in hand to the loading zone and Steve turned to look at you. You pulled a small package from your purse and urged him to open it. A small compass slid out.

“It’s so I know you’ll be able to find your way back to me.” You chuckled. “It’s incredibly cheesy, I know–”

Steve cut you off with a deep kiss, his hands resting on your cheeks. “I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too, Steve. I’ll wait for you.” The horn blew twice and he let go of you. You quickly kissed him one more time and he walked toward the ship. The two of you exchanged pained smiles as he walked on board and waved at you. You waved back, watching as he retreated inside.

You stayed on the dock until the ship sailed off. All you could think was that the next three months would feel like a lifetime. 

* * *

Two years later, you flitted around the apartment looking for the pack of stamps that you’d bought a week ago. You’d gotten into the habit of sending a stack of letters to Steve every two weeks when one letter from him would arrive. In his second letter he had told you that after a successful unplanned rescue mission, Colonel Phillips had allowed him to take a troop and go after more HYDRA bases. Since then, he would include drawings of the places he visited and portraits of some of his friends. He had even managed to find someone with a camera and sent you a photograph of him and Bucky. **  
**

You were exceedingly proud of Steve; he was basically helping save the world. But he was your husband and you missed him like crazy.

As you sifted through the contents of a kitchen drawer, someone knocked on the door. You set down the letters and opened up the door.

A somber faced, brown-haired woman stood before you. She was dressed in a military uniform and held a folded flag to her chest. Your whole body tensed as the reality of the situation set in.

“Miss (Y/L/N)?” She started. The English accent immediately alerted you as to who she was. Peggy Carter. She was a prominent figure in many of Steve’s letters and sketches.

Your head was spinning, but you still managed to reply. “I-it’s Rogers.” You looked at her. “I’m his wife.”

“Oh.” She extended a hand to you. “My name is Agent Peggy Carter. I worked alongside Steve–”

“I know who you are.” You took a seat on the couch and Peggy came inside, shutting the door. “He mentioned you in his letters.” You didn’t want to say his name, you thought that would make it too real. You fiddled with the gold band on your left hand.

You looked at Peggy again, who stood over the couch. The mention of Steve writing about her had caught her attention. Looking in her eyes, you could tell that she had been crying. It was a long trip from Europe to Brooklyn, you couldn’t help but wonder if she had made the trip just because of your husband. He did mention her so often and the sketches of her were always so detailed.

No.

You refused to think of your husband in that way, especially not now. Peggy placed the folded flag on the coffee table and handed you a letter. You took it with a shaking hand, brushing over the words with your fingers. You weren’t supposed to get one of these; you were supposed to see your husband walk through your front door, alive. You stared at the envelope.

“I think I’d like to be alone. Please.” As you spoke the last word, your voice cracked. Peggy nodded and you walked her out.

“I am deeply sorry for your loss, Mrs. Rogers,” Her voice came out as a whisper. You nodded a silent thanks and shut the door, sinking to the floor as you opened the letter. You unfolded it and read the singular typed sentence.

_(Y/F/N)_

_The Secretary of War desires me to express his deepest regret that Steven Grant Rogers was killed in action in December 1945._

_Colonel C. Phillips._

Another paper was stuffed into the envelope and you gingerly unfolded it. This one was handwritten, the messy writing unmistakeable. Tears streamed down your face as you read the last words you’d ever get from Steve.

_Dear (Y/N),_

_I read and re-read all your letters and I miss you now, more than ever._

_Last week, we tried to intercept Zola on his train. Me, Gabe, and Bucky got on the train, but it was a tough fight. Bucky didn’t make it. It was my fault, (Y/N). I let him go, I couldn’t save him._

_We have one more base to go. We’re going to take down Schmidt at his headquarters. We’re gonna end this once and for all._

_I just want you to know that I love you, (Y/N)._

_Love,_

_Your husband Steve._


End file.
